


lessons

by imadetheline



Series: learning, little by little [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Character Study, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Kinda, Original Character(s), POV Outsider, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:49:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28668012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imadetheline/pseuds/imadetheline
Summary: Dess has no idea why he’s being called to Vader’s private quarters. He desperately tries to rack his brain for any possible mistake or misstep that could have led to this nightmare. But he can’t think of anything. He’s glad for once, as he marches down the Executor’s hallways, of the restrictive helmet that hides his face from the other officers and troopers hurrying past him. Even though he doubts they’d pay much attention, too focused on doing their own jobs to notice the rising panic of one stormtrooper. But he’s trained for most of his life, and so he keeps walking, his steps never faltering, down the uniform grey halls.Or: A stormtrooper witnesses Luke and Vader's father-son relationship and is very confused and tired.
Relationships: Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader
Series: learning, little by little [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2100993
Comments: 58
Kudos: 232
Collections: Luke and Vader Bonding





	1. in silences and unseen similarities

**Author's Note:**

> written for this prompt:
> 
> "hello :) I really love your fics!! If you’re still taking requests, I was wondering if you’d be willing to write from an outsider POV? Like an outsider character (maybe like a random Stormtrooper or something) discovering that Luke is Vader’s son, and they just can’t help but be curious?? Because they’re scared out of their minds that Vader will kill them if they knew, but they’re also astounded by how DIFFERENT they are and how much Vader loves Luke"
> 
> so i really loved this prompt, (thank you so much!) and i made this a series continuing on from the situation set up in the first fic in this series. you can read this one without reading that one but it might make stuff a bit clearer. basically it's set after esb and luke has been captured by vader but they've made a deal for training, only what Luke's comfortable with (so no dark side), and killing the emperor.
> 
> plus this will have multiple chapters (at least two) bc i have ideas! no promises on update speed tho cause school starts up again tmr :(

Dess has no idea why he’s being called to Vader’s private quarters. He desperately tries to rack his brain for any possible mistake or misstep that could have led to this nightmare. But he can’t think of anything. He’s glad for once, as he marches down the Executor’s hallways, of the restrictive helmet that hides his face from the other officers and troopers hurrying past him. Even though he doubts they’d pay much attention, too focused on doing their own jobs to notice the rising panic of one stormtrooper. But he’s trained for most of his life, and so he keeps walking, his steps never faltering, down the uniform grey halls.

It doesn’t have to be a death sentence. It’s not like everyone who enters Vader’s offices doesn’t leave. Admiral Piett seems quite adept at continuing to walk away from interactions with the man. Was he a man, though? Dess has never interacted with him personally, has certainly seen his towering figure around the ship and during assaults, but never up close. From a distance had always been enough for him. There aren’t quite words, at least that he knows, for how Vader makes him feel. He’s more than intimidating with that skeletal mask and height that makes everyone crane their necks to even talk with him. Dess starts to feel a sort of pervasive numbness whenever he’s in the same room as Darth Vader, like it leeches from the darkness of his suit with every chilling exhale of his respirator.

Dess shakes his head minutely; he’s overblowing this. It’ll be fine. He remembers his friends’ scared and pitying faces when he’d gotten the comm while in the middle of a sabacc game in their quarters and quickly pushes the image aside, nausea threatening. He’s survived this much: battles and attacks and working on the Executor. He’ll make it through this too, whatever this is.

And whatever he had thought this was, when he stops in front of Vader’s door--which slides open before he can even knock--and sees inside the quarters, he is thoroughly caught off guard. 

Dess isn’t quite sure what he’s looking at, to be honest, and it’s certainly not what he expected. A blond-haired boy, oddly familiar and dressed in an officer’s black uniform, is standing far closer to Darth Vader than he’s ever seen anyone dare. But what has really stopped Dess in his tracks is the fact that Darth Vader is not attempting to murder the boy, nor threaten him, but resting a gloved hand on the boy’s shoulder.  _ And  _ the boy is smiling. 

Dess is sure of two things in that moment. One: he understands nothing going on here. And two: he probably is not supposed to be seeing whatever this is, which does not bode well for him. 

He swallows thickly. His job is not to understand or to question but to obey, and so he tries, once again, to push down his fear and panic on intruding--the door had opened for him after all, so it’s not all his fault--and steps into the room, his white armor thudding loudly against the metal floor.

And that seems to do it. The moment is broken, and the boy turns, dislodging Lord Vader’s hand on his shoulder, but the smile never leaves his face. In fact, it seems to widen as his gaze lands on Dess, his startingly bright blue eyes widening as his grin grows. Dess is quickly distracted from the stranger, his self-preservation instincts drawing his attention to the threat still looming over the boy’s shoulder like a deadly apparition.

Sure enough, Vader’s gaze is fixed on him, and Dess straightens his spine as much as possible. “TK-4472 reporting, my lord.” The mask tilts minutely, and Dess represses a shudder at having Lord Vader’s full attention firmly fixed on him.

The spell is then broken again by the boy, as he crosses the room in quick strides and offers his hand as if Dess is someone he’s just met in a cantina. But of course, the boy can’t see Dess’s bewilderment, what with his helmet on, and he’s still smiling as he says, “I’m Luke. It’s nice to meet you.” And it’s so sincere that Dess blinks.

He’s so confused. He looks down, staring wildly at the hand extended between them, unsure of the protocol here. The boy--Luke, he had said--doesn’t seem to be a prisoner, at least not from his interactions within Vader. Speaking of Vader, Dess glances to him for some kind of instruction, but he just stands imposingly and unmoving where he’d been a moment before. Dess looks back at the boy, still smiling brightly, and then back at the hand, and he gets the distinct feeling this is a test.

But his mother raised him to be polite, and the boy, Luke, seems nice enough, so he raises his gloved hand and grasps the outstretched fingers. He hadn’t thought it possible, but Luke’s smile brightens even more. Dess has no clue where he finds all this carefree happiness while in Lord Vader’s numbing presence. Even as he thinks that, though, he realizes that he hasn’t felt that numbness at all since he entered the room. Luke drops his hand after a firm shake, and Dess isn’t sure whether he’s passed the test or not. He very much hopes so.

And then Darth Vader is striding forward, cape fluttering behind him, adding to his not quite human aura. He comes to a halt beside Luke, and when he speaks, his voice is the exact opposite of the bright, welcoming tone of the boy: a deep, rumbling bass, “You have a new assignment. You are now Luke’s protection on this ship. You will escort him whenever he leaves these quarters-” Dess catches Luke’s eye roll out of the corner of his helmet’s vision and stifles a small smile at the boy’s attitude, “and assign the troopers you deem necessary for his safety. You will protect him with your life.” The deep rumble somehow seems to drop even lower into a bone-chilling hiss, and Dess finally feels the numbness seep into his skin that had so far been missing from the room with Vader’s next words, “I am sure I do not have to remind you what will happen should you fail, trooper.”

Dess ignores the churn of his stomach but doesn’t get the chance to respond before Luke beats him to it. “Father…”

His mind blanks. Had Luke just…?  _ Father?  _ Guess that does mean there’s a man beneath that suit, Dess muses. And then almost kicks himself: that’s what his first thought had been? He’s still not sure he’s processing anything, much less that Luke’s tone had been slightly admonishing as if he… what? Disapproved of his--kriff, his  _ father’s _ \--methods of discipline?

He once again tries to pull his whirling mind back to the present. He needs his wits about him; he can sort all this out later. Partly because Dess is now worried that maybe he shouldn’t know this information and Vader will kill him for even being here. But as soon as he manages to focus, he sees Luke glaring at his father, and the mask appears to be staring impassively back, dark and towering, but Luke doesn’t flinch. It’s like some kind of staring contest or telepathic conversation. And from all the rumors he’s heard of Darth Vader, he wouldn’t put it past the man. And if this boy is his son--nine-hells it’s his  _ son _ , Dess is still in shock--then it makes sense he would have the same magical powers. Dess doesn’t dare twitch a muscle as the respirator cycles in the silence.

And then Vader’s mask inclines slightly, as if in concession? Dess doesn’t even want to know at this point; he just hopes he isn’t a dead man. Vader pivots back towards him, but he doesn’t even glance at Dess. The man’s hand raises and rests on Luke’s shoulder for a single breath, and then it’s falling back down, and he’s sweeping past Dess, a towering figure of power and darkness. As he reaches the door, he turns sharply, “Speak of this to no one,” and then he’s gone. Dess salutes almost as an afterthought and barely contains a sigh of relief when the metal door hisses shut behind the man.

Luke lets out a laugh, and it startles Dess despite all his military training, his head whipping back from the door to look at the boy, Vader’s  _ son _ . Luke is still smiling--does he never stop?--when he speaks, “He can be-” he seems to search for the right words to encompass Darth Vader but seems to come up as short as Dess always does and settles for, “a lot sometimes.” That’s an understatement, Dess thinks hysterically. But then Luke’s smiling apologetically, but he’s still smiling, “Sorry about that.”

Dess opens his mouth to say something and promptly shuts it. What is he supposed to say to that? What does he say to anything that’s just happened?

Luke seems to recognize his confusion because he quickly takes back control of the conversation, “Do you want to take your helmet off?” He chuckles, “I know from experience they’re not the most comfortable things.”

That just confuses him more. Had Lord Vader’s son been a stormtrooper? But then he looks back at Luke, and he’s struck by a much more pressing question: what’s the protocol for dealing with his commander’s son? Is there a certain title? Dess just wants to go back to his bunk. “I’m not sure that’s appropriate-” He casts his mind about for the right appellation. Better safe than sorry, “my lord.”

Luke’s smile falters for the briefest moment, and Dess has a horrible flash of fear that Lord Vader can sense that he’s upset his son and is going to tear back into the room and tear him limb from limb. But then the smile is back, a bit softer than before, his eyes searching Dess’s helmet, eventually finding, unerringly accurately, Dess’s gaze.

Dess almost flinches from the intensity of the blue, how expressive and bright those eyes are. He’s struck again by how different this boy and Darth Vader are: everything from their posture to their demeanor. Luke’s unflinching happiness, blond hair, blue eyes, and Vader’s impassive black mask, red-tinted lenses. But here, caught in the boy’s inscrutable gaze like he’s a ship stuck in a tractor beam, unable to look away, he can suddenly see the resemblance, the hidden power. He feels like he’s being dissected, exactly how Vader had done it minutes before.

And then Luke blinks, and it’s gone, and he’s the short, blond, smiling boy Dess still towers over. He speaks again, voice softer, “Just Luke is fine.” Before Dess can object, Luke continues, “What’s your name?”

Dess thinks he knows what the boy wants, but he’s not about to assume so, “TK-4472, sir.” He decides to take it a step down with the title but still doesn’t drop it completely.

Luke rolls his eyes but doesn’t press that issue; instead, “Not your number, your name.”

So Dess had been correct in his assumption. And he’s tired and still in shock, and Luke somehow seems to radiate trustworthiness and kindness, so Dess tells him. And Luke just smiles again and says, “Nice to meet you, Dess. I’m Luke, Luke Skywalker.”

And Dess almost has another heart attack right there. 

So that’s why the boy had looked familiar: the famous rebel pilot with a gigantic bounty on his head, largely suspected to have blown up the Death Star. Luke laughs out loud again, bright as a star, seemingly at Dess’s reaction, and just offers him a tour of the rooms. Dess nods slowly, pulling himself back to reality, scared his brain is shutting down from all the absolutely bewildering information it’s had to absorb in the past ten minutes. But he shakes his head to clear it, and then he follows the one and only Luke Skywalker, son of Darth Vader, on a tour of rooms in the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Force’s private quarters. He schedules his mental breakdown for 2200 later in his bunk.


	2. in surprises and sincerity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so the kid explores the ship under Dess’s watchful gaze, and Dess can’t help but watch as he bounces on the balls of his feet, flashing smiles at passing officers. Some of them smile hesitantly back, obviously confused, and Dess almost chuckles under his helmet. Luke seems to sense it and glances back at him, still smiling, always smiling. He asks questions about how things run on the Executor, and Dess answers and finds he isn’t annoyed. He doesn’t think it’s quite possible to be annoyed, though; the kid’s like a ray of light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just wanted to thank everyone who sent me a request. i do plan on getting to them at some point. we'll see how long it takes me lol. in the meantime, please enjoy this :)

Dess doesn’t see the kid the next morning--Luke mentions something about training, and Dess isn’t going to ask questions--but in the afternoon, he escorts him to Vader’s private hangar with instructions from the man himself that Luke is to be allowed to work on any of the vehicles there. And so Dess takes him there, a smile tugging at his own cheeks at Luke’s obvious excitement. 

Luke insists on taking the long way even though there’s a corridor linking the private hangar directly to Vader’s quarters. And so the kid explores the ship under Dess’s watchful gaze, and Dess can’t help but watch as he bounces on the balls of his feet, flashing smiles at passing officers. Some of them smile hesitantly back, obviously confused, and Dess almost chuckles under his helmet. Luke seems to sense it and glances back at him, still smiling, always smiling. He asks questions about how things run on the Executor, and Dess answers and finds he isn’t annoyed. He doesn’t think it’s quite possible to be annoyed, though; the kid’s like a ray of light.

And by then, Dess has wrestled his confusion and questions into a tiny box in the back of his head. Whatever he expected Lord Vader’s son to be when he found out, it had not been Luke. But he’s not going to dwell on it. He’s going to do his job.

They arrive, and, at first, Dess stands guard outside the hangar door after Luke slips inside, watching troopers file past, trying to reconcile the rumors of the Death Star pilot with the barely twenty-year-old boy in the room behind him. To be fair, he’s only 26, but he’s never done anything quite so big. And Luke just seems like a kid still. 

His thoughts again drift briefly to all the troopers, all the people, killed aboard that space station. Dess hadn’t been anywhere near it, stationed in a remote outer rim outpost before he’d been promoted, and he hadn’t known anyone on it. And maybe it makes him heartless not to be angry, but this is war, and they’ve all done horrible things. He doesn’t even want to think of how many Imperial officers have been killed by Darth Vader alone. So he at least isn’t going to hold it against the kid. He wonders if Vader had known that when he’d assigned him to Luke.

He’s fairly sure it’s less than an hour later when he hears Luke’s voice filtering through the metal at his back. He jolts himself out of his thoughts and slams his gloved fist into the door controls, unsure how anyone had managed to infiltrate the hangar and also afraid his life is forfeit if Luke is hurt. But, as he casts his eyes quickly around the small hangar, cursing the limited range of his helmet’s vision, he sees no one but Luke, standing near one of the fighters, oil smeared on his cheek and grinning a bit sheepishly. All he says is, “It gets lonely sometimes.” 

Dess stares blankly back at the kid for at least five seconds, trying to get his brain to process the lack of an actual threat. Luke starts to speak again, his lips tugging down in apology, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-” Dess cuts him off with a wave of his hand and just takes up a position across from the ship Luke’s working on. Luke’s smile returns before he disappears back beneath the shuttle. 

Dess takes the opportunity to take in the hangar. He’s never been inside, and he doesn’t know anyone who has. It’s not as large as the regular hangars, but the sheer variety of ships is startling. He’s known Vader is an excellent pilot, but it seems he also collects ships from across the galaxy. There are shuttles and TIEs--Dess has his suspicions that they’re heavily modified--but there are also fighters, colorful ones that he wouldn’t have expected, and an unusual sleek silver ship too.

But it doesn’t stay quiet for long, and he’s quickly brought back to reality when Luke starts talking again, “So where are you from?” 

The metal of the shuttle muffles his voice, but Dess only hears sincerity in the question. It’s not something he’s accustomed to hearing onboard the Executor where everyone’s too tired or stressed or angry or apathetic to really care. It’s a defense mechanism as much as anything: if you don’t bother to get to know someone, then you can’t be as hurt when they die. And maybe that’s horrible, but it’s the price of war, and it’s the way they live. 

But Luke is different. He doesn’t belong here, on this vessel of destruction, all austere lines, blacks, and greys. Even with the kid’s officer’s uniform, Dess can tell he doesn’t belong. Maybe it’s the smiles, the sincerity, the bounce in his step, the pure light and kindness he seems to radiate. Force, how can this be Darth Vader’s kid?

But Luke has asked him a question, and he hasn’t heard such genuine curiosity since he was a kid on “Lothal.”

“Oh, hey-” Dess hears a clang and then a slight hissing and can’t help raising his eyebrow at the mumbled “oops” that floats out from under the shuttle. But then Luke seems to fix whatever he’d done, the hissing fades, and he continues the conversation as if nothing’s happened. “I’m from the Outer Rim too!” He sounds actually excited that they have this in common, and Dess smiles as the kid continues, “Tatooine, actually. I’ve never been to Lothal. Do you miss it?”

And Dess hadn’t expected that, hasn’t thought about it in quite a long time, but… he supposes he does. “Sometimes,” is all he says, and he hopes Luke leaves it there.

And he does. Dess wonders if Luke can tell he’s reluctant to discuss it; the kid is unnervingly perceptive. The conversation falls into silence for a moment, but somehow Dess can’t leave it. He’s trained for years, knows not to ask questions; he’s been content to answer Luke’s inquiries but has resolved not to ask any of his own. It’s not his place. And yet he finds himself breaking the silence to ask, “Do you miss Tatooine?”

Luke’s feet--the only part of him Dess can see--shift slightly, and Dess wonders if he’s asked something he shouldn’t have. But then Luke is answering, “Not the planet. I couldn’t get away from there fast enough.” There’s a faint chuckle, but it carries a wistful tone, and Dess tilts his head slightly, expecting Luke to leave it there. “But sometimes I miss... the people, the memories, you know?” 

And Dess finds he does know. He thinks of his mother. He’d joined the empire to provide for her after his father died. He hasn’t seen her in years, not really. He sends money, and he calls when he has time. But it’s not the same. So he understands, and he’s about to say so when Luke calls out, louder than he’d been talking before but still muffled, “Hello, Father.”

Dess almost jumps out of his skin, his head whipping towards the door. And sure enough, the hulking form of Darth Vader fills the doorway, blocking all sight of the doorway, and seeming to suck the light from the room and air from his lungs. He’d been so lost in thought he hadn’t noticed the door sliding open. Kriff, his survival instincts are faltering. He has the feeling Luke knew he was there and only spoke to alert Dess, so he spares a moment to silently thank the boy for helping him before he throws his hand up in a salute, hoping Vader doesn’t notice the delay.

A moment later, he’s not sure why he bothered. Vader sweeps past him, cape whipping at Dess’s shins, without even looking at him. His footsteps echo in the wide-open hangar before he comes to a halt directly in front of Luke’s feet sticking out from under the shuttle. Luke doesn’t move, but Dess hears him huff out a breath, “Maybe try, I don’t know, knocking next time?”

Darth Vader’s mask inclines slightly, and his tone seems lighter somehow when he speaks, his respirator still resounding loudly, “It is my ship, young one. I do not see why that is necessary.” If Dess happened to be insane, he might think the man is amused.

There’s a clanking for a moment from under the shuttle, and then Luke responds, “It’s polite.” 

“Very well,” and Dess doesn’t quite believe it when Vader then reaches a gloved hand out to the side of the shuttle and raps on it, the sound ringing in the silence. It appears gentle, but his strength sends vibrations through the whole ship, and Luke curses from underneath it in a language unfamiliar to Dess. Vader’s respirator crackles in what Dess would guess is a huff of laughter, and the man says, “Satisfied?”

Dess is not quite sure what he’s witnessing. If he knows one thing, it’s that Darth Vader cannot have a sense of humor. And yet…

Luke’s fingers finally appear at the edge of the ship as he pulls himself out from underneath it. Vader doesn’t move, so Luke ends up sitting at the man’s feet, oil on his face and in his blond hair as he cranes his head back to look up at the dark mask. Luke’s not smiling, his face the picture of annoyance as he says, “You made me drop the hydro spanner,” but Dess can tell, even from his position, that there’s happiness clear as day in the boy’s bright eyes.

And Dess can’t help himself, he smiles beneath his helmet. Now he can definitely see the father-son dynamic. 

He also thinks, after everything he’s heard, he can’t be surprised anymore, but then Vader says, “Then I shall have to assist you,” and Dess resolves never again to assume that nothing can surprise him.

Luke seemingly hadn’t expected it either because his whole face lights up, the picture of youthful eagerness, “Really?”

Vader doesn’t respond, just inclines his head, and Dess isn’t sure why he’s still allowed to be here. But as soon as he thinks it, Luke’s eyes flick to him, and he sees Vader track Luke’s gaze back to Dess. It seems he’d forgotten Dess was here. Dess pushes down a smile at that; Vader is known for his hyper-awareness, but apparently, his son requires his full attention. There’s a gruff, “Dismissed,” and a wave of the man’s hand, and then the mask is turning back to Luke. Dess doesn’t need to be told twice; no one on the Executor does; if they had, they’re dead now. 

He pivots sharply on his heel and crosses the hangar quickly, pressing the door control. It slides open, and he exits into the hall, turning slightly as the door closes behind him. He thinks he sees Vader pull the dropped hydro spanner to his hand and point at some piece of machinery on the shuttle while Luke nods thoughtfully, a smile still clearly visible on his face, before the door slides shut with a whisper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you guys have requests for more scenarios with Dess specifically please feel free to send me an ask on tumblr and i might try to write it in another chapter or as another part of this series


	3. in dramatics and family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke once again cuts him off, “So if you’re in the vacuum of space,” he pauses, catching Dess’s eye and grins widely, “then why’s your cape moving?”
> 
> Dess starts at that, tilting his head to the side to see the holo better. And sure enough, Vader’s cape is fluttering dramatically behind him as he deflects lasers. He hadn’t even noticed that, but now he glances up at Vader’s mask, trying to quell the grin tugging at his lips. Luke does no such thing, his smirk clearly visible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was for the prompt:
> 
> "So this is pretty random, but in one of your amazing fics can we have a moment where Luke asks Vader if he uses the force to make his cape billow out dramatically? And Luke is laughing his ass off 'Father, there's no wind in space!' and Vader is trying (and failing!) to deny it?"
> 
> thank you so much! this was such a fun and cute idea! hope you enjoy!

Originally, Dess thought he would hate this assignment, following and being ordered about by Lord Vader’s son. But it’s been two weeks, and Dess doesn’t think he’s enjoyed an assignment this much before. The kid is, he doesn’t even know what to call him, but he settles on: the complete opposite of Darth Vader. And it’s true.

He’s seen the boy start conversations with the troopers assigned to guard his room, laughing and getting to know them. And he’s seen him stop in the middle of a sentence to pick up the flimsies a stressed ensign had spilled in the hall, reassuring the apologetic young woman and then offering to help her carry them to wherever she’d been going. And so they’d turned around, and Dess had followed Luke, now carrying half a stack of flimsies, as he followed the ensign. And he hadn’t even been surprised that by the time they got to the correct office to deliver the reports, the woman had been giggling and maybe a bit infatuated. Luke hadn’t even seemed to notice. 

That’s just how he is with everyone, even droids. He thanks every droid who speaks to him, and Dess had even seen almost an entire line of mouse droids waiting to be fixed up by him one day in the hangar. The kid had done all the repairs with a smile on his face.

And even though Darth Vader is diametrically opposed to the boy, Dess sees their bond clearer and clearer each day: Vader’s hand on Luke’s shoulder, Luke tugging on his father’s arm to get his attention, spending time together in the hangar fixing up ships. 

Even their arguments clearly tell of their relationship. One day Dess had overheard yelling and had walked into Luke gesturing wildly and saying something about Vader being controlling--and Dess definitely believes that--but Vader had been raising his voice right back, not choking or strangling. It had looked almost like a regular argument between a regular father and son, not between the Supreme Commander of the Imperial forces who could--and regularly did--kill someone without lifting a finger, for much less than a raised voice, and his rebel son who’d blown up the Death Star. Either way, Dess had been quick to back out of that room. Because while he’s fairly sure Luke won’t let Vader kill him, he’s not going to try to start a battle of wills between the two over it.

Somehow, Luke has even managed to slip between Dess’s own shields with his open kindness and genuine curiosity. After their conversation in the hangar that had gotten cut short, they’ve talked far more, about their friends, the horrors of ration bars and field food, to their favorite holovids. Luke had even joked about his father and family once and then asked about Dess’s. And Dess had told him. After Luke had once again told him he preferred seeing people’s faces with a kind smile, Dess has even begun taking off his helmet when it’s just him and the kid.

<<<>>>

One day, while tinkering in the hangar, Luke had jokingly mentioned how he doesn’t really know much about his father, but Dess could see the regret lining the words. And so that’s how he finds himself, two weeks on this assignment, collecting all the holos he can find of Darth Vader for Luke. Two weeks ago, he would never have expected to be going out of his way, doing more than his assignment requires, for some kid. But it’s Luke. 

And Dess highly suspects he’s not the only one who would go out of his way for the boy. From that frightened ensign to random troopers, everyone Luke encounters seems to be either slightly infatuated with or protective of the kid after only one conversation.

He raps on Luke’s door, his armor echoing against the metal, and it hisses open almost immediately. Luke is sitting on the polished metal floor, no sign of discomfort, his blond hair falling into his eyes as he concentrates on the mouse droid beeping rapidly while whirring around the room, it’s control panel hanging open. Luke shakes his head, “I know, I know. I’m trying, but you have to stop moving.” He’s still smiling as he waves the droid over to him. It finally seems to calm down a bit and returns to stop in front of his crossed legs. 

Luke picks up one of his tools and resumes his work on the droid, gaze finally flicking up to the doorway. “Hey, Dess!” He smiles brightly and jerks his head at the pile of holos in Dess’s arms, hands still busy with the droid, “What are those?”

Dess shifts on his feet. Now that he’s here, he’s not quite sure how to explain what he’s doing. But Luke just smiles encouragingly, and Dess gives it a go. “Well, they’re, uh, holos of Darth Vader. You said you didn’t know a lot about your father, and, well, I thought any little bit might help.”

He stands awkwardly in the silence for a moment, unsure if he’s overstepped, before Luke’s smile widens and his hands still. “Really?” And any doubts Dess had are immediately gone at the pure excitement on Luke’s face. Dess just nods. And then, before Luke can say anything else, the mouse droid is beeping indignantly. Luke laughs, “Yes, yes, I’m sorry,” and resumes working on the droid.

Dess moves to drop the pile of holos on Luke’s bed for him to look at later; he doesn’t want to intrude, and the boy’s clearly occupied. But Luke interrupts before he can, “If you’re not busy, would you want to put them on?” He huffs a quiet laugh but pointedly doesn’t look at Dess, focusing on the droid between his hands. He seems almost… embarrassed. “I mean, you could explain the stories behind them. You probably know him better than I do.”

Dess can’t help the small smile beneath his helmet; Luke’s still such a kid. “I doubt that, but I’d be honored.” 

Luke grins brightly and gestures to Dess to sit on the edge of his bed. As Dess moves, the door behind him hisses shut, and the lights dim. He’s long gotten used to whatever powers Luke and Vader have; it’s still amazing, but now he doesn’t flinch every time something moves on its own. 

He dumps the holos on the dark sheets of the bed next to him, and then he reaches up for his helmet, taking a deep breath as the cool, filtered air of the ship hits his skin. And then he plucks a holo from the pile and leans over, placing the disc on the floor between the bed and where Luke is sitting cross-legged, still working on the droid.

Dess presses a button and sits back as the blue, flickering image of Darth Vader appears. Somehow he’s still intimidating even when he’s not even a half foot tall.

<<<>>>

And together, they look through the holos one by one. Some of them are from Imperial propaganda, some are of his TIE in action, and still others are taken from actual campaigns on the surfaces of planets. Dess tells Luke about the ones he knows about and watches as the kid stares, transfixed. Dess can tell it pains the kid to see some of them, but when he’d tried to shut them off, Luke had stopped him with a restraining hand on his wrist, still staring.

And then, finally, they stumble on one Dess remembers vividly. It shows Vader climbing from the cockpit of his crashing TIE advanced in the middle of a space battle and leaping to land on the outer hull of one of the star destroyers, cape flapping and lightsaber flashing as he continues to deflect lasers from attacking ships. Luke sucks in a breath and leans forward, long having finished his repairs on the mouse droid. Dess chuckles. He remembers feeling the same way, seeing Darth Vader from his post on the Executor during the battle. It’s frightening and awe-inspiring seeing the hulking form continue in the midst of a raging space battle with nothing to protect him from space but his suit. Dess had known before then that Vader was unstoppable, but then he’d witnessed this: that not even the vacuum of space could stop him, and his respect and fear of the man had tripled.

He tells Luke as much, and they continue watching the image, the blue light flickering over their faces. But then Luke’s brows pull together as if he’s unsure. Dess narrows his eyes at the image, trying to discern what could have upset him. He’s caught off guard by Luke’s sudden grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he starts to ask, “Why-”

The hissing of the door cuts him off, and Dess doesn’t even have to look to know who it is. He tenses all his muscles as he tries not to flinch or whip his head around. Instead, he turns slowly to see, surely enough, Darth Vader standing in the doorway, hands on his belt, mask tilted towards Luke, as it always is. By now, Dess is sure Vader doesn’t know how to enter a room  _ without _ looking menacing, but whenever Luke is in said room, his edges are somehow not as sharp.

Still, Dess doesn’t want to risk his wrath, so he jumps up from the bed, saluting and standing ramrod straight. Vader steps further into the room, the door sliding shut behind him, and breezes past Dess, uncaring as always, so Dess drops his hand back to his side.

The blue of the mini Darth Vader in the holo reflects off the black of the much taller and more solid Vader’s armor. His mask tilts down to regard the looping video for a moment and then turns to Luke, who, if possible, seems to be smiling even wider at some sort of inside joke with himself.

“What are these?” comes Vader’s bass, echoing around Luke’s quarters. Dess flicks his gaze back to Luke.

The kid just smiles, “They’re holos,” he smiles and then adds, “of you,” as an afterthought.

There’s static from Vader’s vocoder, almost a sigh, “I see that child, I meant-”

But then Luke cuts him off, smiling brightly for someone who, if he had been anyone else, would have been dead about now, “That’s you, right?” He doesn’t wait for an answer he already knows before he continues, “And you’re standing outside on the hull of the ship, in the middle of space, right?” Dess dares to grin slightly at the kid’s audacity while Vader’s back is to him.

“Yes, but I don’t see-”

Luke once again cuts him off, “So if you’re in the vacuum of space,” he pauses, catching Dess’s eye and grins widely, “then why’s your cape moving?”

Dess starts at that, tilting his head to the side to see the holo better. And sure enough, Vader’s cape is fluttering dramatically behind him as he deflects lasers. He hadn’t even noticed that, but now he glances up at Vader’s mask, trying to quell the grin tugging at his lips. Luke does no such thing, his smirk clearly visible.

If Dess had to hazard a guess, he’d say that Vader’s silence stems from a quiet shock and that only makes him smile more. Luke is barely holding back laughter, his cheeks turning red, where he sits on the floor.

Apparently, Vader seems to decide to go with denial, “I don’t know what you mean.”

Luke lets out a full-blown snort and gestures at the holo, “So… that’s not you using the Force to be dramatic, then?”

The silence is so very telling, and then “I do not see how that is relevant to-” He stops talking abruptly when Luke bursts out laughing and falls to the floor, clutching his midsection.

Dess swears he can feel Vader’s surprise echoing in the room, even without whatever powers they have. He brings a hand up to cover his mouth as he suppresses chuckles of his own, Vader standing frozen as the blue light of the holo dances across the polished metal of his mask. His gaze is fixed firmly on Luke’s rolling form, the boy’s laughter filling the silence, far louder than Vader’s respirator.

It takes a few minutes, but finally, Luke’s laughter fades into chuckles, and he sits up, wiping tears from his eyes. Vader seems unimpressed. Luke just grins up at him, once again sitting cross-legged in front of the holo, his black uniform wrinkled now. “You can’t deny it.”

And Vader doesn’t try to, just ignores it, as if nothing had happened. “Why,” he speaks slowly, “do you have these in the first place?”

Luke grins and pushes himself up to his feet, pausing for a moment as he wobbles. Dess doesn’t miss the twitch of Vader’s hand as he almost reaches for the kid to steady him. Dess smiles again, watching the two. It’s obvious Vader would do anything for the boy. It’s no wonder either. Luke seems to have that effect on everyone. Dess is pretty sure half the troops on board the Executor would die for the kid already.

“Dess brought them so I could learn more about you.” Dess zones back in at the sound of his name. And just in time: Vader’s mask whips towards him, and he straightens his spine, face carefully neutral under the weight of that skeletal gaze.

And then the mask tilts down slightly, as if in thanks, and then he waves a hand in dismissal. Dess doesn’t take time to process the fact that Darth Vader might have just thanked him for helping his son; he just scoops his helmet up from the bedsheets and jams it on his head while he walks to the door. He looks over his shoulder and sees Luke mouth ‘thank you’ as he leans around Vader’s bulk. Dess just nods slightly and smiles in the safety of his helmet.

He walks out into the hall, some of the officers glance at him briefly before looking away, and he turns to close the door. Through it, he sees Vader brush hair away from Luke’s forehead before Luke catches him around the middle in a hug that would have knocked a smaller man backward. The blue of the holo dances around them as if it's a dream, or rather a memory. 

Dess presses the door controls and watches the scene melt away, replaced by emotionless durasteel. He smiles softly; Luke deserves a father, and he’s glad Vader is trying to give him that, no matter how unconventional it may be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for now this is the last chapter but if yall have requests for more scenarios with Dess or for this series send me an ask and lmk. thanks for reading guys :)

**Author's Note:**

> If you guys liked it leave a comment. They make my day! Seriously I love reading them so please leave me one cause they motivate me to write more! if you guys have ideas for other stories send me an ask on tumblr [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/imadetheline) or just yell about stuff with me. Info about me and all my other tumblrs are [here](https://infoabtmaddie.carrd.co/#)


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